


Rest

by imachar



Series: 30 ficlets series [14]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Outdoor Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 06:26:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imachar/pseuds/imachar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shore-leave smut…lead up to, but no actual sex….</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rest

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd - read at your own risk.
> 
> If you recognize it, it's not mine

“Shore leave. Now!”

The voice startles Phil Boyce out of a weary reverie and he looks up from the three PADDs on his desk to find the Yorktown’s captain leaning on the doorframe of the sickbay main office. Chris looks more relaxed than he has any right to given the eight days of hell they’ve all just been through. Telurian plague, a faulty bio-screen and an under-zealous port control officer had proved to be a bad combination for the Federation colony on Setlik III and even with the Yorktown’s help, the result had been a wildfire epidemic of one of the most virulent, and least curable, diseases in the quadrant.

“What? No, I’ve still got to finish up the treatment notes for Inukitsoq and Rasmussen.” Bio-shielding procedures had failed for two of the security personnel that the Yorktown had sent down to the colony to help with quarantine procedures and the result had been a pair of seriously ill crewmen and a badly contaminated corner of sickbay. Phil had only just finished screening all the people that the security team had come into contact with before the failed bio-shield was detected, and while they’d managed not to pass the disease on to anyone else, there are still three bio-hazard teams scanning every inch of the Yorktown for stray traces of the virus.

“Phil, the whole point of persuading Command that we needed emergency shore leave was so that everyone – including you – involved in this clusterfuck could get some down time before we head back to the border. Now, I’ve left One in command, I’ve commandeered a jump-shuttle and for the next eight hours you’re not thinking about dead colonists or mutated plague bacteria or how the hell you’re going to decontaminate the bio-hazard suites.”

“You’re pretty fucking dictatorial today.”

“See these...” Chris gestures to his sleeve, the captain’s bars bright against the muted gold of the fabric “…these mean I’m the boss, not that they seem to mean much to you most of the time. But for once you’re going do as you’re told. I got the mess to pack a cooler of food and some of that mango-lime tea that you love so much, now time to go appreciate Argaya’s double suns and relax by a river for a couple of hours.”

Chris is grinning and there’s a sub-text to the smile, and the easy relaxed slouch, that makes Phil roll his eyes as he finally pushes himself back from his desk and levers himself to his feet. He knows the game Chris is playing, teasing him with the promise of more than a simple picnic in the sun, the jump-shuttle giving them access to the wide expanse of Argaya that is untrammelled wilderness and far from the prying eyes of the few colonists who live in the planet’s small agricultural settlements.

“You just want to get me naked out of doors again, I know you.” Phil slides the PADDs into his secured desk drawer and locks it before advancing on Chris, who is still slouched against the doorway.

Chris’s grin just gets a little wider. “Hey, if you’re offering I sure as hell won’t say no.”

Phil steps close enough to curl a hand around the back of Chris’s neck and, after a quick glance beyond him into the main medbay to check that no one is looking, he tugs gently and Chris capitulates, leaning into a slow, teasing kiss. It lingers, sweet and hot and spiced with just a hint of control from Phil and he’s gratified that for all his earlier imperiousness, Chris seems to be willing, as usual, to follow his lead in this. When they finally break for air, Phil swipes his thumb across Chris’s lower lip and gets a brief, teasing nip in reward. He grins, and releases his hold on Chris’s nape.

“Don’t get your hopes up. Go do your pre-flight checks, I’ll meet you as soon as I pick up my swim shorts.”

“I’m not taking mine.” Heading for the main doors, Chris is laughing and Phil just shakes his head with his familiar mix of fondness and exasperation.

“Yeah, but you’re a fucking exhibitionist…I’m not.”

****

It takes forty-five minutes to reach the spot Chris had in mind and as he drops the little four-person shuttle down into a clearing of sparse bright green mossy vegetation Phil sucks in an awed breath at the beauty laid out in front of them. He has no idea how Chris knows about this little slice of paradise, but now that they’re here he isn’t going to complain, and if Chris is very, _very_ good – and very, _very_ persuasive – Phil might even be persuaded to participate in a brief, sun-drenched, al fresco fuck.

Argaya has no contemporary indigenous population, but clearly at some time in the past it had, and that culture apparently had developed some kind of religious obsession with water. The abandoned and crumbling limestone temple complex is built into a wide shallow river, the water diverted to flow over stone platforms and disappear into dark, decaying shrines to long lost gods only to reappear in shallow waterfalls and collect in deep, clear, white-sand floored pools. The adjacent forest is a dark vibrant green, and with Chris’s assurances that there is nothing hazardous to human life either in the water or the surrounding vegetation, Phil steps out onto the “grass” and grins at Chris.

“Okay, you win, this was a really good idea.”

He sets the cooler down on a large flat limestone slab and lays out a thin self-inflating sleeping pad next to it, before he goes and scavenges one of the removable seat cushions from the jump-shuttle. Whatever else this day has in store, if he’s going to enjoy himself he’s going to need a nice, long, refreshing nap first.

Chris watches with a kind of paternal satisfaction, which Phil finds pretty amusing, but he refrains from commenting. It’s not often that he gives in to Chris’s relatively rare caretaker impulses and for once he has no intention of shattering the mood with sarcasm.

“I hope you’re not expecting company for a while, I need a nap if I’m going to enjoy the rest of the day.”

“Great idea. I’m going to go explore, go swimming, see what’s in some of these temple complexes.” Chris rummages in the cooler and finds an apple, crunching his way through it in just a few bites as Phil looks around at the decaying stone structures that surround them.

“This has all been explored before, right?” He’s not sure whether he’s more concerned about the cultural heritage implications of Chris poking around the temples, or the possibility of one of them collapsing on him.

Chris tosses the apple core back into the open cooler and catches the hem of his uniform shirt in both hands. “Hell yes, the FAS came through here about sixty years ago, I looked up the records when I knew this is where we were planning shore-leave, that’s how I knew this place existed.” The last part of the sentence comes out a little muffled as Chris pulls off the shirt and then, once his head is free, he grins cheekily at Phil and starts to shed his uniform pants, toeing off his boots even as he thumbs open his flies.

“Anyone else on board know about it?” As much as Phil is appreciating the floorshow, he’s still a little suspicious that they might be interrupted.

Chris shakes his head as he kicks off the pants and hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs. “Doubt it, anyway all the shore-leave requests I approved were for that resort outside the capital.” And then he’s naked and Phil can’t quite tear his gaze away from all that long, lean expanse of fair skin and dark gold fur. He marvels sometimes at Chris’s unselfconscious ease in his own body and, if he’s honest with himself, envies it too. A combination of Catholic guilt instilled at far too young an age, and then years of being hyper-conscious of newly healed skin and suspicious bruises had always made Phil just a little self-conscious about public nudity. Still, if there is genuinely little threat of them being interrupted then he can at least change into his swim shorts without taking refuge in the shuttle.

By the time he’s naked and ready to step into the shorts Chris is splashing around in the nearest pool like an otter on speed, interspersing shallow dives with long underwater glides, popping up to shake his head and send icy-cold droplets flying across the surface. Phil turns his back as he goes to put on the shorts and rolls his eyes at the entirely predictable request from Chris, who is now standing in chest-deep water in the middle of the pool.

“Leave those fucking shorts off, there’s no one out here for a thousand hectares. C’mon, that ass deserves a little sun.”

“Fuck you, Captain.” He gets one foot through the leg of the shorts.

“I’ll make it worth your while later.”

“Yeah, try me.” The other leg is through and Phil hesitates for a second.

“Aw, c’mon Phil, at least let me look, please.” Phil has no idea how a 42-year-old Starfleet captain can manage to plead with such artless, almost innocent, sincerity, but it works...fuck it…it always works.

“Okay, okay, no shorts.” He kicks them off and turns back around to face Chris. “Happy now?” Phil drops down onto the sleeping mat and stretches out, propped up on his elbows and scowling a little at Chris, still not entirely comfortable at the idea of his dick exposed and open to the elements.

“Oh hell, yeah.” Chris grins, as ever, unfazed by the scowl. “Now, you have a nice nap and you’ll get your treat when you wake up.”

All it takes is a few minutes of lying in the sun for Phil to stop thinking about the fact he’s naked and start feeling drowsy. He hasn’t had nearly enough sleep in the last week and for all the temptation to continue watching Chris – all sleek muscles and slick, water-dark pelt – playing around in the pool, the temptation to sleep is stronger.

When he wakes, he’s not really surprised to find Chris fast asleep and sprawled out on the rock beside him. For all his energetic enthusiasm earlier, he’s had barely any more sleep than Phil over the last few days and as resilient as Chris is to fatigue and stress, even he needs to rest and recharge occasionally. With a stretch and a yawn Phil sits up, pleased that he can manage it just using his core muscles, and that he’s not in as bad shape as he sometimes fears, although he long ago resigned himself to the fact that he’ll never be in the kind of command-hardened condition that Chris is managing to maintain even now that he’s past forty. Despite his best intentions, Phil casts a glance to the side and surveys the long, leanly muscled form that is spread out naked beside him.

“So unbelievably fucking beautiful.” He whispers, not wanting to wake Chris, and then traces a fingertip lightly across the breadth of Chris’s chest, teasing through the generous spread of hair and then brushing the sharp rise of his clavicles, pausing for a moment to explore the soft skin of the supersternal notch, pressing just hard enough that he can feel the ghost of a pulse from the subclavian and carotid arteries.

After a moment he moves down, his fingertip circling the tight, pebbled rise of one nipple and then moving on to trace the lines of muscle that define Chris’s abdomen. Phil could do this for days, he’s always been a little in awe of Chris’s beauty, the strength and control and stunning grace of a body gifted by nature and maintained by discipline and determination.

He’s so distracted by the way the hair feathers out from the centerline of Chris’s abdomen that he doesn’t notice the slight shifts in respiration and pulse that indicate that the object of his study is waking up. It’s only when he finds himself flat on his back with 93 kilos of naked starship captain plastered across his body that Phil realizes just how busted he is.

They stare at each other for just a moment, breathing and heart rate accelerating as they both understand what is about to happen. Despite himself, Phil can’t quite rein in the urge to press up against Chris, his cock trapped against a broad, lightly furred thigh, twitching and swelling involuntarily as his body begins to respond to Chris’s heat and weight.

“So what part of “we’re not going fuck outdoors” involves you feeling me up while I’m asleep?” It’s obvious from his grin, wide and delighted, that Chris knows he’s going to be the victor in this particular skirmish over risk-versus-reticence and Phil rolls his eyes with a sigh.

He is _so_ fucked.

_fin_


End file.
